


Chaotic Good

by odiko_ptino



Series: Featured Character: Hermes [4]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 20:45:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17029722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odiko_ptino/pseuds/odiko_ptino
Summary: Hermes isn't sure of his D&D alignment.





	Chaotic Good

Hermes doesn’t _take on_  the title of ‘god of memes’ so much as it just  _is_  him.  Memes are a fairly intrinsic part of the god’s existence: the humor, of course, but also the concept of rapid-fire communication across whole populations – more than that, it bridges distant populations that would not otherwise normally communicate.  Apollo has made this observation, while watching the 21st-century meme culture with a (slightly perplexed,) detached curiosity: that it’s like watching Hermes’ brain in action.

It’s not quite  _not_  true, but it gives Hermes a little pang to hear it.  Because Hermes’ brain is not nearly the happy-go-lucky chaos that everyone imagines.

This version of Hermes that everyone thinks they know, is a very carefully cultivated illusion. Using one of his favorite memes as a reference point, consider the D&D alignment chart: a system of categorizing a person’s moral/ethical outlooks, based on lawfulness vs chaos, and good vs evil.

When the meme crosses Hermes’ path, naturally he brings it up in an Olympic council for spirited discussion.  Nobody claims the lawful good alignment – well, Athena tries, briefly, but gets side-eyed into conceding that she’s probably more lawful neutral.  No one but Hestia gets neutral good.  Hades (not present for the discussion) is dubbed true neutral.  Ares leaves the conversation before anyone can suggest chaotic evil for him (they don’t, actually, they mostly think he’s neutral evil).  Hermes sneaks into his bedroom later and leaves a pillow with Ares’ name and ‘chaotic good’ cross-stitched onto it, along with an angry frowning face that resembles Ares, and some appliqués of dogs, dragons, and vultures. They don’t speak of it again, but Hermes does see the pillow is still there, the next time he’s in the room.

That’s the alignment everyone thinks applies to Hermes: chaotic good.  The kind of guy who can’t be tied down, who just runs around according to his own whims and his own principles – but in spite of his rascally ways, he’s ultimately acting for the greater good.

This is absolutely, 100% the kind of person Hermes wants to be, and it’s the person he presents himself to be.  But unfortunately, he doesn’t think it’s who he  _is_  – not anymore.

“Messenger god” is his formal title, mainly because his duties are so varied that it’s impossible to find a better term that encompasses all of them.  One of his duties is as a chief enforcer of Zeus’ will. One of his first tasks, in that capacity, was to slaughter the giant Argus, in order to free Zeus’ lover Io.

Where does this act fall on the alignment chart?  A murder, as a direct result of Zeus breaking his marriage oath?  Surely not lawful – and yet, it is, because Zeus’ will  _is_  law.  

And what was the final outcome?  Good or evil? Good, perhaps, in that Io was freed. That was the reason Hermes had gone so willingly to this task; he didn’t feel Io’s indiscretion warranted the punishment.  He still feels that.  But Argus… had done nothing wrong, either.  He was employed by Hera to watch a cow, and showed hospitality to the wrong traveler.  Hermes isn’t even sure Argus knew who Io was.  In the end, it didn’t matter.  Argus was murdered… in a violation of  _xenia_ , no less. The only thing to say for Hermes here is that he put Argus to sleep first so he wouldn’t have to see his death coming.  Not much of an act of good.

Or how he was sent to retrieve Persephone from the Underworld, after Zeus had finally confessed to her whereabouts, after it was clear that Demeter was prepared to destroy the entire world if that’s what it took to get her daughter back.  Seemed straightforward enough – lawful good, even if Zeus ordered it a bit reluctantly.

And yet, when he finally beheld Persephone after all those months of her being missing and he announced that he was going to return her to her mother… he saw unhappiness in her eyes. True grief; Hades, too, seemed miserable.  Hermes took her back, as lawfully commanded.  Not for him to decide what was good or what was evil.  

There are so many of those types of actions Hermes takes – actions of questionable morality, questionable lawfulness.  They don’t get discussed in the Olympic alignment roundtable, in favor of bringing up the way Hermes playfully terrorizes baby nymphs by pretending to be a scary Cyclops; the way he is able to befriend  _everyone_ , from Athena to Apollo to Ares; the way he spoils the hell out of that little storyteller, Aesop; the way he pranks everyone in Olympus regardless of their rank.  Chaotic good, surely.

And yet… the burden of responsibility drags him always back to something more like Lawful Neutral.  

The burden never weighs more heavily than when he delivers mortals to their final destination – on the banks of the river Styx.  

There are some who die peacefully in bed, surrounded by loved ones, satisfied with a full life. There are some who die violently – but proudly, defending their families or friends or city, from the dangers of bandits or wild beasts or foreign invaders.  Those dead spirits aren’t so hard to deal with.

But there are those who died in fear and pain, and their final memory of life is sorrow.  Sickness or violence took them too soon, and without even a noble last purpose to ease the sting of finality.

Children, too young to even understand what is happening, crying for their mothers.

Many women, murdered in the name of honor or possession or lust, resigned to the fact that they had one life and it’s over now, due largely to the fact that they were born as women.

Untold thousands of ordinary people who lived ordinary lives and had to make difficult choices and are not certain, at all, if they amounted to any good in the end.  Hermes can sympathize.

He sympathizes – and yet, he must take them to the river, and leave them there.  

They nearly all weep and cling to him, overcome with their loss, worried about their loved ones, fearful of what lies ahead.  They beg him to take them back or, failing that, to stay with them.

He doesn’t.  He can’t.  He has other duties to attend to.  

He tries, hard, to be the Hermes they want him to be, and he hopes he’s successful.  Hermes soothes them and tells them stories on their way to the river.  He kisses their cheeks and tells them that it’ll be fine, Hades is an even-handed ruler and Persephone still totally has a crush on Hermes, just tell her that you’re Hermes’ friend and she’ll certainly be nice to you.

The worst, though, are the ones who were not properly buried – those without coins for the ferryman. They linger, forlorn and trapped in their misery, on the banks of the Styx.  Unable to go back, unable to move on.  Absolute despair.

Hermes starts stealing coins – the thefts are noticed, and even identified as stolen by Hermes, but they go unremarked for the most part.  Hermes is the god of thievery; what is there to remark upon?  He steals stuff.  Just be grateful he didn’t steal more.

No one question  _why_  he’s stealing the coins; it seems irrelevant. So no one notices that he begins slipping the coins into the hands of the forlorn souls left on the banks.  He can’t take away their sorrows, but he can send them to seek peace.  

He remembers Icarus, well enough.  Hard to forget – it isn’t often that he’s present when the mortal is killed; far rarer still for the mortal to be in the air with Hermes when it happens.

Not that Hermes was particularly close by, but he’s always in the air somewhere.  He had seen Icarus and Daedalus soaring through the clouds on their wax wings and naturally, Hermes had tarried to watch with curiosity as Icarus had soared higher, a look of determination bordering on triumph in his eyes, as Helios and Apollo had coaxed him on, laughingly…

…And Hermes had seen the boy’s wings melted by the sun gods’ heat; had seen the boy plummet into the ocean far below, had seen bones break upon impact, had seen the water fill his lungs.

The sun gods don’t save Icarus.  They had expected this to happen, and are just amused that the young idiot had allowed his lust to overrule his good sense.  There isn’t actually any malice in their amusement – just a detachment, an inability to see the value in this mortal.  But then again, neither of them have seen the banks of the Styx, or perhaps they would care more.

Hermes doesn’t save Icarus. He can’t save everyone.  Icarus’ soul is one of those who died too young and filled with sorrow – but there are so, so many who die in sorrow.  Hermes can’t save them all.  

He tells his stories and gives him hugs and tells Icarus it will be okay.  He’s about to find peace in the Underworld.  

Icarus doesn’t care. He’s crushed.  He doesn’t respond to anything Hermes says.  Icarus does cry, but quietly, and doesn’t look up once. He stands where Hermes leaves him, eyes dull where once there was fiery determination.

Hermes assumes that he’s going to need a coin stolen – a body tossed about at sea won’t get a proper funeral.  But the next time he comes through, he finds that Icarus is gone already.  He asks Persephone, who informs him that Hebe asked her illicit mortal beau Herakles to retrieve the body and bury it properly.  

She additionally tells him that Icarus’ exploits, while unsuccessful, were nonetheless noteworthy enough that she had decided he might stay in Elysium, to enjoy a life of joy with other remarkable mortals.  Icarus had declined, and asked to go to the Asphodel Meadows, there to relinquish all memory of his mortal life and drift, mindless but at peace.

An unhappy fate, for Icarus.

Centuries pass. Hermes carries on as ever before. He carries out the will of Zeus and carries out the rest of his duties, staying as impartial as he can, in the name of keeping balance in the world.  He maintains a carefree and joyful face to the world, and plays his jokes wherever he can, and does his best to keep the balance in his own heart, of the terrible things he has to do, with his intrinsic desire to spread joy through the world.

He consumes the memes greedily and loves them for the distractions they are.  

He’s drawn up his own Olympic Alignment Sheet and is showing it to the Moirae.  He’s on good terms with them – as good as anyone can be, anyway. They share some responsibilities (and sorrows) with him, in the ending of mortal lives and the dealing with prophecy and fate.  Hermes is only a dabbler in fate – he has his dice, which he rolls to get a prophecy of sorts, but that’s about it.  

The Moirae are amused by the alignment meme and argue a few of the positions – they feel Helios needs to be fully lawful, “that nerd wants to be a rebel so bad, but the sun is always where it should be, maybe the most reliable thing in the world; and how many rules does he ever actually break?  You can’t just wear a leather jacket and say that makes you James Dean.”

“Yeah, and Artemis doesn’t get to say she’s lawful just because she lives out in the woods and hardly ever brushes against civilization.  Even if she only encounters civilized laws twice a year, she has something like a 99% rate of chaos on those occasions.”

“And you, Hermes!”

“What about me?” Hermes says, grinning in amusement at the three ancient crones crowded around his carefully-drawn sheet.

“You put yourself at lawful neutral?  What the hell?”

“You’re clearly chaotic good!”

He blinks, and looks at the sheet.  His mark was supposed to be at chaotic good, where everyone had decided he belonged. Instead, it’s over at lawful neutral, like the Moirae have pointed out.  Apparently, they’re seeing where he places himself, in his own mind. Should’ve known he couldn’t fool these three.

Hermes shrugs, trying to play off the unexpected moment of vulnerability.  “Ahh, well, you know me – always doing my job, no matter what it is, good or bad…”

The three crones scoff as one.

“We know what you do, Joyful Hermes.”

“You do as you are bidden, lawfully, no matter what it is.”

“And you undermine it every chance you get!”

Hermes hovers in the air, a rare expression of stupefaction on his face.

Clotho cackles.  “We see all, little fool!  You, who were sent to slaughter Argus, and wouldn’t do so until you’d set him happily and peacefully to sleep so he wouldn’t suffer.”

“You, who thought of the loophole of the pomegranate seeds, that Persephone could have her mother and her husband both!” Atropos adds.

“Hermes who steals coins that all mortals may find peace in the afterlife!” Lachesis chimes in.

“Well, yeah, but – ”

“But me no buts!” the three say in unison.  Atropos tosses the crumpled alignment sheet at him; it bonks off his forehead.  

“You are clearly chaotic good.  You do all you can to make things better, to undermine every ugly thing that happens in the world.”

“I’m not sure that’s how the alignment system works – ” he tries.

“We’re Fate, Idiot Hermes!” they say, using their favorite epithet for him.  

“Don’t argue it with us.”

“Chaotic Good.”

“ _We’re_  lawful neutral.  Us, and Hades.  Not you.”

“Yes, and Hades.  Who could have thought that boy would be anything but lawful neutral.”

Hermes leaves with a lot to think about – the confident assertion that he is, in fact, chaotic good, but also the fact that there are beings old enough to think of Hades as  _boy_.

But, chaotic good.

Hermes, the enforcer, the impartial – chaotic good?

He mulls it over with a busy round of pranks, thefts, and comforting sorrowed souls, culminating in a combination of these three things:

He breaks into the vault in the Underworld, where Persephone keeps the memories of all the deceased, and steals one vial in particular, as well as the paperwork for Icarus’ reincarnation.  He replaces the vial with one containing a liquid smelling strongly of strawberries, and the paperwork with an alignment sheet containing only one name: 

Hermes.  The mark is in chaotic  _fucking_ good.


End file.
